Sins of the Father
by Heart of PureSilver
Summary: Sequel to DwtD. "You know those stories where a character is whisked away into another world and becomes an almighty force of good? This isn't one of them. Sixteen years of inquiring about my absent father has led to me and a good friend being thrown into the fray of a war that he started. The best part? It doesn't get any better from there." M for language, implied themes, blood


Hey there, oh _wonderful_ people of the internet and the creepers who secretly hide among you. Oh _man_, do I have a tale for you. Now before you think this is just another silly fanfiction on the internet, think again.

What? Skip the bullshit and just tell us the details about what the hell happened in the epilogue of the last story?

_Fine_.

So, the last story was about a normal woman from everyday reality finding her significant other in a mass murdering ninja from an alternate dimension. In the end, Mr. Ninja went back home to his dimension while the woman stayed in reality. Blah blah blah, like I really need to say more than that. You read that story already; otherwise you wouldn't be reading this one now, would you?

Now…before he left, that ninja left the woman with something. A gift and a burden at the same time: a child. The woman raised that child alone, doing her best to hide anything regarding his father from others. Despite her best efforts, the child continued wishing to meet his dad one day. Little did he know that he'd get that wish after years of waiting.

This tale is about that child and how that child met the father he never knew. More specifically, it's a tale about me. Izuna Matthew Price. Actually, it's Izuna Uchiha now, but you get my point.

Just when you think your life has hit absolute rock bottom, the universe has a way to mindfuck you at the last minute and turn things around just before you make the biggest mistake of your life.

And it all started with a typical Monday morning…

* * *

><p>The blaring noise of the alarm clock echoed through the room. How I hated that damn thing. Alarm clock, you shall perish one day by my hands; <em>that<em> I assure you. I fumbled around a bit, trying to find the off button in my drowsy state. I eventually settled on ripping the cord out of the wall outlet since I was too aggravated to bother with the noisemaker from Hell. I had no desire to get out of my bed. I wanted to lie under my covers all day.

Nope. Couldn't do that. Mom would murder me if I skipped school.

Screw the public education system and everyone who believes it "heightens the minds of the young 'uns". It was a societal torture device fabricated by underpaid workers who had nothing else better to do with their lives than make students miserable. If school has taught me anything, it's that people are intrinsically cruel no matter their age.

I grudgingly sat up, my hair getting into my eyes again. I groaned, parting the locks behind my ears. I continuously questioned why I kept it as long as it was. Somewhere in my soul, it felt right to have it grow long. Unfortunately, my peers thought otherwise. I was the butt of many "girly" jokes and pranks because of the length of my hair and for other reasons. I still remember the first day of freshman year. My old classmates from junior high had decided it'd be fun to shear my mane down to size. My mother threw a hysterical fit when I got back home that day. I didn't blame her. If my best friend went to school with mid-back length hair and came back nearly bald, I'd freak too; just not to the extent that she did.

I toyed with a strand, staring it down. I was partially grateful my hair grew fast, but I tried to not let it get as long as before. I didn't want a repeat of Mom panicking over me again. She had enough problems. Being unmarried and a single mother was just a recipe for gossip and rumors for the fairer sex. If girls thought guys treated others horribly, they're a bunch of lying hypocrites. Girls are ten times worse to each other than we men are, hence why I stayed far away from those creatures of hideous natures.

I made my slow start to the morning. I took off my pajamas and threw on a pair of dirty clothes since I was too lazy to open my drawers. Besides, I only wore that particular outfit once that week. I doubted the red t-shirt and blue jeans would smell that bad. Once that was done, I quickly ran my fingers through my hair to fish out all the tangles. It was almost always messy whether I brushed it or not, so I simply didn't bother with it. After that was done, I skipped the rest of my morning routine. I was in no mood to brush my teeth, make my bed, or even eat breakfast. I lumbered down the stairs, making a bunch of noise in the process. My mother was at the kitchen table eating eggs and bacon for breakfast. I sat down across from her to wait for my inevitable journey on the yellow vehicle of doom.

I dreaded going to school that day. Actually, I always dreaded going to school no matter what weekday it was. It was the place that made my already evident differences stand out even more than they needed to be. No one had natural blue-tinted, gravity-defying spiky black hair. No guy liked to grow his hair out unless he was gay or transgender. None of the things I wore were the "style" of the current generation. I was an outcast and everyone spit upon the existence of bastards.

I knew people threw that term around like it was nobody's business, but I took offense to it. I _was_ a bastard: a child born from unmarried parents. The worst part? I had no idea who my father was. I mean…I knew what he looked like, but I never got a name. Mother would never talk about him except to compare me to him. I loathed it. It was like she expected me to be exactly like him.

Like I would ever knock up a girl and leave her to fend for herself instead of taking responsibility like a man. I wouldn't get that far in the first place! I had more than hormones behind me driving my moral choices!

"Izuna?"

Oh. Right. Duh. My name was also an anomaly that the school aristocrats like to poke fun at. My name was the only extremely foreign name in a sea of normalcy: Izuna. Everyone always butchered the pronunciation too, which really ticked me off. Eye-zoo-nuh, E-zu-nah, Isu-nuh; you name it. What the hell kind of ghetto name is Izuna anyway? What the fuck does Izuna even mean!? Turd? Unwanted? Animal? Sometimes, I felt like it was all three combined and more. How I felt for my poor late uncle since I was apparently named after him. He was probably relentlessly bullied by the nobles too back in the day.

"Izuna, is there something wrong?"

I lazily eyed my mother. "What gave you that idea?"

"You and your 'I hate the world' attitude are really grating on my nerves," she sighed in aggravation. "Can I not get a simple yes or no out of you for once?"

"Yes, something's wrong," I answered briskly. "Everything is wrong."

She groaned. "That tells me a lot."

"Be more specific next time then."

"Smart-aleck."

"I hate school. That's my problem. I hate the teachers, I hate the aristocracy, I hate the discrimination, and the work is completely pointless in the long run. When am I ever going to need to know the proper circumference of a can of cola? Two words: not ever!"

"Izuna, we've gone over this before. If you want to function in the real world, you're going to need an education."

"I can function just fine in the real world _without_ an education," I snapped. "It's not like it'll change anything. People hate anything that goes outside the social norm."

She sighed at me. "I don't see what the big deal is. You have two more years and then you're done. I promise you, college is infinitely better than high school."

"That's what you said the last time when I went up a grade. 'Oh, don't worry! Such and such grade is infinitely better than previous so and so grade! Trust me!' or something like that. I'm sick of hearing that bullshit from you, Mom. You know as well as I do that school is complete torture."

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, young man," she snapped. "Whether you like it or not, this is required. I can't help that."

"Yeah. Just like you couldn't help Dad leaving you," I coldly bit back.

I got up from the table, grabbing my backpack and storming out the front door when I heard the metallic groaning of the school bus outside. I didn't hear the sorrowful sigh or the words she whispered under her breath.

"You were right. I _am_ an idiot. I should have gone with you…"

As per usual, the bus ride from Hell was as enjoyable as ever, note the sarcasm. I sat on someone's leftover piece of chewing gum and it smeared all over the bottom of my pants. People pointed and laughed at me when I walked through the front doors of the school. As I stalked through the hallways to get to my locker, I had to suppress the intense urge to maim every single one of those assholes. Those sudden urges of intense anger used to scare me, but I had learned to control those violent impulses that would come over me. Killing or hurting others was not moral nor was public humiliation a good reason to commit such crimes. Though I would get back at all of those bitches one day.

"Zuzu!"

I let out a surprised yelp when someone tackle-glomped me from behind. I ended up slamming my forehead into my locker door in the process.

"Marie!" I shouted, rubbing the forming bruise. "I told you not to do that!"

Marie Davis was her name. She was the only friend I had in the entire school, even though she was a good two years older than I was. She was a bit awkward, but she was incredibly kind. I had known her since…forever. My Auntie Beth adopted her when she was really young and she introduced Marie to me when I was born, or so I've been told. She was practically my sister; an eccentric and somewhat demented sister. I blame Auntie Beth for that. After all, children model after their parents.

I looked at her when she let me go. She was wearing a green t-shirt and matching beige capris and white sneakers. She had her brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She saluted me.

"Hiya, Zuzu!" she said again. "Guess what?"

"What?" I asked, though I had little interest in whatever it was.

"I just got to the big fight between Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju in the _Naruto_ manga!" she answered gleefully.

"Yay…" I said sarcastically. "You nearly gave me a concussion just to tell me _that_?"

She blinked innocently. "Yes."

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. I could feel a headache brewing already. Today was not going to be one of my better days.

How right I was. I failed the algebra test I took the previous week, I was the bulls-eye during dodgeball in gym, I tripped over nothing in the hallway before getting stepped on by a few people, and I forgot my lunch box at home.

Fuck. My. Life.

So there I was in the library, starving and irritable as I clicked away on the internet. I had been trying to find other sources to use for my next stupid project: an essay on my analysis of Holden Caulfield's character in _Catcher in the Rye_. Seriously, Holden's life was just as screwed up as mine was. I held a deep respect for the guy because of that similarity we shared.

I wish Holden was there to catch me when I went through that rye field of childhood before finally falling off that cliff into adulthood.

Nope.

I was hopelessly alone.

I let out a frustrated growl when I kept getting denied access to certain websites due to the school's firewall. Deciding to forgo the idiotic searching, I went back to Google. I had five minutes left of lunchtime before I had to go back to class. What to do with those five minutes?

Izuna.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I slowly typed in the name and searched for its meaning. A bunch of results popped up. I clicked on the one leading to Wikipedia since I knew the school would let me go to that website. I got a list of various things.

The Japanese name for the least weasel. Oh goodie. One of my guesses was right.

Mount Izuna. Oh stalwart rock, thou juttith forth from the earth and lookith like ugly ass Mrs. Brown's tits.

Cult practices. _Wonderful_.

Anime characters. Izuna Uchiha, deceased younger brother of Madara Uchiha.

I groaned again. Marie could go on forever about that guy. She praised him so much that it made me gag. Oh, he has such a noble goal! Oh, his past is so tragic! Oh, he's so strong! The dude is a drawing! A cartoon! He doesn't exist! Apparently, only I understood that. Why was he such a big deal to her?

I decided to go find out, but just as I was going to type in "Madara Uchiha" the bell rang. I sighed, grudgingly getting out of my seat before picking up my backpack. I would find out another day. Or I could ask Marie. The latter option would be easier since I didn't have access to a lot of websites on the computer I had at home. It was, in Mom's words, for educational purposes only.

The rest of the day dragged by. The only thing that brightened my mood was that Marie had decided to come over to my house to help me out with my math homework. I hated math so much. It was the most pointless subject ever. As we hopped off the bus, Marie was going off about the battle between Madara and what's-his-name.

"It's the most awesome thing ever!" she said energetically. "Former friends duking it out in a battle to save the world! The best thing is they both have different ideas on how to save the world!"

"Fabulous," I blankly replied, not caring in the slightest.

"He's the best thing ever," she serenely sighed. "Even though he'd kill me at first sight, I'd still love to meet him."

"I heard you the first thousand times. Give it a rest already."

She pouted childishly at me. "Meanie. When'd you become such a grump, Zuzu?"

"First year of junior high," I dully replied. "When I got my first wedgie and failed my first class."

"There are ways to prevent that from happening."

"Well, Miss Toni Stark, I'm not a genius like you are! Unlike you, I have enough trouble understanding _half_ the crap teachers throw at me!"

I opened the door to my house, hearing the sound of Nickelback's song _Far Away_ playing softly. I felt a surge of guilt hit me. I knew my mother always played songs like that when she needed to release pent-up emotions from missing Dad. Bringing him up was always a sore topic for her. I still remember the days she openly wept in front of me when I asked when Dad was coming back.

I knew now what "gone" meant. Gone meant one of two things: either he left or he passed on. After years of anxious waiting, I soon came to believe it was the latter guess. Sometimes I'd use the former guess when I was angry with Mom. It really hurt her when I did that. In a way, I delighted in her pain. On the other hand, I was sickened at the fact that I did and reprimanded myself for even _thinking_ of hurting her.

I was a twisted individual and I knew that.

I tiptoed into the living room, finding no one around. I assumed Mom was in her room, wallowing in her self-pity. I made my way to the kitchen table before dumping all my books onto it: geography, Japanese, English, and math. Way to curse students with constant back problems in their futures, teachers; your job has been done well. Marie sat down beside me, scooching her chair closer to me. She then hovered over all my papers.

The hours slowly ticked by. Algebra, I hate you with every inch of my body. I did fine in all my classes except for math. Math takes forever to do. If even the slightest mistake is made, the answer to the problem is wrong. It was my worst subject specifically for that reason. Being a perfectionist, I threw a mini fit whenever I got the answer wrong, especially over something incredibly stupid like misplacing the negative sign or rounding the wrong number.

It was six in the evening when I finally finished the algebra homework. Only three more subjects to go. I needed a break, so Marie suggested we watch a movie. I ended up putting in _Finding Nemo_. It was my favorite movie. Actually, I really wanted to be Nemo when I was a child. I wanted some weird situation to pop up and my dad would come looking for me, fighting tooth and nail to reach me. We'd reunite and then we'd be a happy family. I was a fool. It was mere wish fulfillment. My father would never come for me if he was still alive. It didn't mean I didn't appreciate the devotion Marlin showed while looking for his son. That was true paternal parental love. The type of love I lacked in my life.

"I have to find my son! I have to tell him how old sea turtles are!"

Oh man…that line got me every time…

Before I knew it, the movie was over and it was back to homework. Sometime during the movie Mom had cooked dinner. She made some sort of…pie? I had no idea what it was, but it tasted pretty good. It was fried tofu filled with sushi rice. It was a foreign dish of some sort; not my favorite, but not the most hated either. I think she called in Inari sushi or something like that. Anyway, Marie and I spent another hour on the rest of our homework before she decided to rant about how nice my mother was.

Someone shoot me.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mother dearly, but she was so overbearing that it was suffocating at times. My grandparents were no better. They treated me like I was five; but then again, what kind of grandparents would they be if they didn't? There was also a mix of…pity and fury in their eyes when they looked at me. I could only guess that they weren't happy with Dad knocking up their only daughter and then vanishing off the face of the Earth.

"And then he captured—"

"Marie, I don't give a fucking care!" I shouted. "Stop gushing over a piece of fake trash!"

She gasped dramatically. "Izuna!"

"_What_? I don't gush over pointless things," I said, crossing my arms. "Why is this 'Madara' such a big deal to you?"

"Because he's awesome," she answered bluntly. "Plus, he reminds me of you."

I raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Similar personality, strikingly similar looks, and you have the same name as his younger brother."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope."

She took a manga book out of her backpack. She flipped through the pages. She smiled when she found what she was looking for. Turning the book to me, she pointed at one panel which showed two men. She pointed at the one with hair shaped slightly like a chicken's butt.

"That's Izuna Uchiha," she said before pointing to the man next to him. "And that is Madara Uchiha. Believe me now?"

I didn't say anything. I was too busy looking at the man called Madara. I felt my heart stop for a good few seconds. I didn't breathe. I didn't blink. Everything in the world froze in that moment.

I knew that face. It was in Japanese manga style, but there was no mistaking that face.

That was the face that had preoccupied my dreams for years. That was the face I had wanted to meet my whole life. That was the face I had given up on ever seeing in reality.

I was looking at the face of my father.

_Holy shit_.

"MOM!"

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><p><strong>And here we have the sequel to the generally accepted MadaOC story, <span><em>Dance with the Devil<em>! I give you this: _Sins of the Father_! This story shall focus on Madara and my OC Lilith's son, Izuna. Lots of twists and turns are to come, so I hope you enjoy this different take on the fulfillment of a son's dream to meet his dad.**

**I also hope you end up liking my OC Izuna! He was already in development back during first few chapters of DwtD. I'm quite satisfied with the final result and I hope you are too. Please read and review and tell me what you think of the story so far!**


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